Under the July Sun (13 page)

Louis tried to boost their morale as he had done previously, but felt unable to carry it off now. How could he rally the men into thinking in terms of victory for England when inwardly it really felt futile to him? The job they were there for he thought, was simply too much for most of them and he hated what was expected of them all. He felt he was caught up in an endurance test that went beyond human capabilities.

Part of his own problem he realised was that he enjoyed the quiet life back in England and now he had no stomach for war.

Initially his unit had pushed through France relieving towns and villages from occupation on the way, with fighting becoming more intense as they drew near the German front line. As they had travelled along the route, he had witnessed slaughter everywhere and in the small villages it was commonplace to see women with their throats cut or bayoneted through the chest by the Bosch.

Now reflecting on it all brought an overwhelming sense of futility and depression which he was unable to share with anyone.

One evening they camped near a farmhouse close to a wood on the outskirts of Poperinge. All was quiet and Louis hoped they could have a few hours of peace. But just as they were bedding down for the night, they came under attack. Shells burst all around them and as well as bullets and mud flying it was raining torrents. Gas shells fell adding to the chaos.

Men, blinded by either shrapnel or effects of gas, staggered around, getting in the way of their own men firing at the enemy. Everywhere he looked there were bodies. Then, just as suddenly as it began, the gunfire and shelling ceased and all that could be heard was injured soldiers groaning.

Louis decided to push forward and take the farmhouse on the other side of the field where they were camped. He suspected the enemy were hiding there.

It was almost dark when he signalled to the men to spread out and begin moving towards the farmhouse. As they crossed the field, Louis noticed a barn ahead, to the left of the farmhouse, hidden in a copse. The men divided, some to the east and others to the west.

Within twenty feet of the barn Louis motioned for everyone to lay flat on the ground and fire at the barn. When they stopped firing, some German soldiers ran out with their hands up.

‘Bitte, bitte,' they pleaded.

Poor devils, Louis thought, and turned to speak to his sergeant.

‘Escort these prisoners away─' But he was unable to finish the command because gunfire from inside the hideout took him by surprise. ‘Down, down,' he shouted and his men threw themselves to the ground, but the German prisoners, being in the direct line of fire, were shot by their own men.

The English gunners, some distance behind Louis' men, immediately fired their howitzer at the barn. Shells roared overhead and as Louis lay there, he became conscious of the fact that he was lying in a mire of cow dung which was emulsifying in the rain.

As soon as he felt the Germans held no more threat, Louis urged the men to move forward again.

‘Keep going and stay low,' he said turning to Georgie, the youngest of their group, only to see him shot straight through the heart.

The gunfire had come from the direction of a barn on the other side of a stream.

‘Carry on,' he ordered the others, ‘there is no time to mourn the dead, otherwise you'll be joining them.'

So they pressed on.

On a small bridge crossing a stream between the field and the farmhouse, a sign pointing the way to Poperinge hung like a lifeless scarecrow as the soldiers, crouching low, stole across in silence.

They surrounded the barn from where Louis thought it likely the gunfire came, then without warning, two German soldiers stepped out into the farmyard waving white handkerchiefs.

They lay down their guns and with their hands above their heads surrendered to Louis. These were the men who had shot Georgie and he was face to face with them. His anger flared and his instinct was to shoot them on the spot; but his training as an officer overtook his emotions and he ordered them to be tied up.

Once the prisoners were secured, Louis pulled a packet of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one, staring away into the distance through glazed eyes.

Then he saw the door of the farmhouse open slowly and braced himself to fire again, but relaxed when an elderly man appeared waving a white cloth. The man called out, but Louis did not understand what he was saying.

Puzzled, Louis decided to try French in the hope that they could communicate.

‘Parlez vous Français, Monsieur?'

The old man smiled and nodded. ‘Monsieur, monsieur, s'il vous plait, entré. Entré. Merci, merci.'

Louis walked up to the doorway and tipped his cap. ‘Bonsoir, Monsieur.'

The old gentleman stepped aside and gestured for him to enter.

Inside was an elderly woman, whom Louis supposed was the man's wife, filling glasses of wine.

She pointed at the glasses and some bread and cheese on the table and then gestured to him to eat and drink.

‘Pour les hommes, et vous, Monsieur. Et merci beaucoup.' Her voice was little more than a hoarse whisper.

‘Merci, Madame. Merci,' Louis replied.

He went to the door and whistled to his men to come in, and they were given wine, bread and cheese.

The farmer and his wife were exuberant at the arrival of the British troops and explained that they had been captive for two weeks. They told how the Germans stole all their produce and shot their animals one by one for fun.

In the candlelight of the room, Louis held up his glass of wine and raised it to the old folk.

‘Bon chance, Madame et Monsieur,' he said before swallowing it in one go. He thanked them for their hospitality and then they all left, calling out, au revoir, as they walked across the yard and out into the field.

Back in the camp, long after nightfall, Louis settled down to write up his field diary. The one thing that gave him a sense of reality was recording his thoughts and events on paper. It reminded him of who he was and helped him deal with the bizarre nature of events.

And as always in his mind, when the fighting lulled and the blood ceased to ooze from others' wounds, he clung to the image of Cat walking towards him, smiling, under the July sun.

As daylight faded one Sunday afternoon, Cat and Ellie heard someone knocking on the door.

‘Are ye expecting anyone Cat?' Ellie asked moving to the window

‘No I'm not. Who is it?'

Ellie strained to see who was standing on the step. ‘I can't see properly, but it looks like a woman.'

‘Well open the door then and we'll know for sure.' Cat said lowering the newspaper she was reading. She listened as Ellie opened the door and heard a woman ask if Miss Delaney was in.

‘Yes. I'm Miss Delaney,' Cat heard Ellie say; followed by the woman telling her she had a letter for her. Cat's curiosity was raised as Ellie appeared back into the parlour.

‘What was that all about?'

‘I have a letter,' she said tearing open the envelope, then as she pulled the paper from the envelope and read it was for Cat, folded it and handed it to her. ‘Sorry, 'tis for ye.'

Instantly, Cat realised it was from Louis and her spirits soared. She read the letter, then flushing, looked at Ellie. ‘Listen to this!' She read aloud.

‘‘‘March 3
^rd
1917

My Dearest Cat
,

Thank you for your last letter, which as usual, I was so pleased to receive. Thank you also for asking about my leg, which as
I speak, is giving some discomfort, but I have learned to ignore this mostly. I expect it is not doing me much good constantly getting wet, and the cold has been atrocious – the past winter must be the worst in living memory. I am giving this letter to one of my chaps who is being shipped home. Poor fellow has some serious injuries, but as he lives in Eltham, he promises to get this to you, somehow
.

Cat, I hesitate to write the next part, but I have wanted to ask you something for some time. Because of the war, I felt I had no right to suggest it but I feel that if I remain silent much longer, I may lose the opportunity
.

What I am trying to ask is whether you would do me the honour of becoming my wife. You must know that I have been in love with you since we first met and I cannot imagine any better prospect than to return to England knowing you will be there waiting for me
.

I have had a dilemma because I thought I should not ask you to become my wife as each day is filled with uncertainty. Asking you to wait for me seems such a selfish thing to do, especially since there is no guarantee that I will remain unhurt, or even return
.

If you decide to say ‘yes,' it must only be on the proviso that I come home in one piece. It would be totally selfish of me to expect you to wait for me just to become a nursemaid if I am injured
.

If your answer is no – then I will respect this. Whatever you decide, I know that I want you in my life because life would be everything with you, and nothing without you
.

I have been thinking seriously about converting to Roman Catholicism, so I would not want you to feel that religion would form a barrier between us. To this end I have been taking instruction from Father Leahy who has become a friend to me out here
.

I have not taken this decision lightly Cat and would not want you to form the impression that I am only doing this to win you over. The decision to become a Catholic has been arrived at by me because I had lost my way in life. I have only found the path back to hope again through Father Leahy's serenity, sagacity, patience and friendship

If you will accept my proposal I could apply for a leave pass to enable us to marry this summer. Please take your time to consider your reply, which I hope will be yes, so that I may feel the happiest man alive - or not, as the case may be
.

Yours

Louis.'''

Ellie sprang from her chair. ‘Jesus, Mary and Holy Saint Joseph Cat, the man's asked ye to marry him! Sure this calls for a celebration…I'll get us a bottle,' and Cat watched as giggling like a schoolgirl, Ellie hurried to the kitchen to get a bottle of homemade wine. When she reappeared with the bottle and two cups she laid them on the table.

‘C'mon let's crack it open and celebrate.'

Cat looked at her. ‘Sure I haven't said,
yes to him
.'

Ellie spun round. ‘What?'

‘I haven't decided to say
yes
.'

‘Ye've got to be joking! What d'ya mean ye haven't said yes?'

‘
Exactly that.'

‘I don't believe I'm hearin' correctly. First ye throw over Paddy, now ye're not saying yes to Louis. Who're ye waitin' for, the King of England?'

Furious with Cat, she slumped down on the chair in front of the fire holding her head in her hands. ‘Ye're twenty six years old and not gettin' any younger ye know.'

Cat could see Ellie was annoyed with her and laughed.

‘What's so funny?'

‘Ye are!' Cat grinned

‘Oh
really
? Well I can tell ye, Cat Delaney that I am annoyed with ye. How could ye turn Louis down? He's a fine man and ye'll get none better than him. God if he asked me I'd be lickin' his boots in gratitude, I would so.'

‘Who said I'm turnin' him down?'

‘Well ye did didn't ye?'

‘No I did not.'

‘Ye did so.'

‘I did not.'

‘Well if ye're not turnin' him down, why did ye say ye have not said yes to him?

‘Ah! I'm only griggin
¹³
' ye Ellie. I meant I hadn't said
yes
, because I have not done so,
yet
! But I fully intend to tomorrow, in the form of a letter of acceptance! Now, will that do ye?'

Ellie rushed over to Cat, threw her arms around her and kissed her cheek.

‘Ah ye devil. Ye had me goin' there, ye did for sure. Wait now while I uncork the hooch.'

She uncorked the wine and poured two full cups out. They snatched up the cups and took enormous gulps of the wine, wiped their lips with the backs of their hands and smiled at each other.

‘I'm glad ye're here with me Ellie.'

‘And so am I,' she said squeezing her sister's hand. 'Tis just a pity we're not home with the family, to celebrate like.'

‘Yes. Ye can imagine it. They would be puttin' on a fine craic and all of us dancing and performing. Life is funny.'

‘How d'ya mean?'

‘Well all that trouble back home. All because I wouldn't marry Paddy. I wonder what would have happened if I had never met Louis. Sure I'd probably still be home, married and all.'

‘Yes, probably.'

‘I would never have been happy with him, Ellie.'

‘No, I know that. I felt ye did the right thing comin' over here. He can't get at ye now.'

‘I miss Mummy and Dada though Ellie. Sometimes I feel I would give anythin', just to be walkin' down the boreen again.'

‘Give it time. All things change and go full circle, ye'll see.'

‘And what about ye? D'ya think ye've changed?'

‘Probably. I've stopped bein' so angry about Jimmy now. I have become kinda resigned to it. I expect God has some other plan in mind for me. Maybe I'll become a nun or something.'

‘God above, I hope not Ellie.'

‘Why, what have ye against nuns?' Ellie took a sip of wine.

‘Nothin'
exactly
. But most of them are like dried up old prunes. Ye're meant to become someone's wife and mother to loads of children. Don't think of wastin' yer life shut up in some old convent.'

‘Ah, sure I've no intention of any such thing. C'mon, now drink up, I'm leavin' ye behind.'

Ellie poured more wine into the cups and they sat drinking by the firelight as darkness closed in and she got up to light a candle.